


New Territory

by mid_sweettalk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Oral Sex, Pharmercy, Roleplay, bottom!Pharah, though I suppose they’re both technically switches in this instance, top!mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23751238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mid_sweettalk/pseuds/mid_sweettalk
Summary: It's been two years since Angela and Fareeha had been deployed on a mission, since Fareeha had been seriously injured and Angela hadn't been there to save her. Now, Angela asks for some moral support in putting on the uniform once more, and she discovers something that provokes them to get a bit carried away.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	New Territory

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this mainly for my amazing friend Bri who spends COUNTLESS hours rambling about Pharmercy with me and always sends me the cutest drawings <3

Angela looks over the rough black case with a bit of trepidation. She reaches out to touch it, runs her fingers over the familiar texture, and shivers when she releases a lock. It has been almost two years since she’s worn the uniform, wielded her staff, two years since—

She cuts off her train of thought with a wince. It’s fine, now. Two years is more than enough time to recover, even from— _stop it!_

“Fareeha!” Angela calls out before she can spiral any further. She needs to do this, one way or another, and Fareeha always manages to make things feel easier.

It’s not long before Angela hears Fareeha’s footsteps enter the door behind her. “Yes?”

“Hi,” Angela says on a long, drawn-out sigh. Fareeha intuitively wraps her arms around her waist and rests her chin on Angela’s shoulder. Angela’s hand moves from the black case to cover Fareeha’s own as she leans their temples together.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Fareeha asks softly, gently as her hold on Angela.

Angela lets out a smaller sigh. “I have to try on the uniform… to make sure no adjustments need to be made before….” Before their first field mission after being medically benched for almost two years—after _Fareeha_ was medically benched for almost two years and Angela had refused to be deployed without her. Angela shakes her head lightly. “Could you help me, _sch_ _ätzli_?” She turns her head to place a kiss against Fareeha’s cheek.

Fareeha, meanwhile, freezes for a second as her mouth goes dry. “Help you… put on your uniform?” she asks, feigning a need for clarification when she’s really just processing. She’s seen Angela in her Mercy uniform before, of course, but not only has it been a while; Fareeha has _always_ struggled to hide her reactions to the suit from Angela.

She remembers Angela briefly mentioning slight disdain for the suit. She hadn’t liked the combination of aesthetic with her codename, thinking it pretentious and not wanting to be viewed as such. (Although, Fareeha had called her “Angel,” one day and made the doctor flush bright red. Angela had avoided her gaze for ten minutes, restless and squirmy, and Fareeha stored that information away for later use.)

How was Fareeha to explain, then, that the first time she had ever touched herself had been to the image of Angela in said uniform?

So, she never did, and now her breath is catching just at the idea of seeing Angela in uniform once more. Her responding “sure” is drawn-out because of it, hesitant, which causes Angela to look at her with some concern.

“Well,” Fareeha continues at the questioning gaze, “you’ve just… never needed my help before.” It’s not a lie, even if it isn’t the main reason for her hesitancy.

Angela lets out another shaky sigh and turns in Fareeha’s arms to face her. She runs her hands over Fareeha’s strong shoulders, up her neck and back down her arms, more to soothe herself than anything. “You make me feel stronger,” she admits, “and right now, I feel very… scared.”

Fareeha moves her hands to the small of the doctor’s back, bringing her in securely. “ _Habibti_ … you don’t have to do this.” She’s made sure that the doctor knows her options on this, but now she’s afraid that Angela has been simply burying her true feelings on the matter. “You don’t have to go.”

Something hardens in Angela’s eyes, and it catches Fareeha off guard. “I almost lost you, because _I wasn’t there_ , Fareeha. Do you not realize that?” She takes a step back from the soldier, though she stays close and keeps her hands on Fareeha’s shoulders. “I could not _possibly_ put myself through that again. Please don’t ask me to do so.”

_Oh._ It hits Fareeha then, the underlying cause for all of this. Her left foot aches suddenly, but she ignores it and instead lifts a hand to cup Angela’s cheek. “Then… _we_ won’t go.” Angela’s eyes widen slightly. “Winston, Jack, everyone would understand if I weren’t to return to active duty; they’ve offered it multiple times. I don’t have to go, either.”

Angela gives her a soft, teary-eyed smile. “You would drown without serving, my love, and you know it. I knew from the beginning what it would be like, dating a soldier. I signed up for this.”

Fareeha’s eyebrows crinkle together. She knows, deep down, that Angela is right, in that retiring now would eat away at her inside. But still…

“I’ll be fine, Fareeha. I’m just... anxious, but just having you by my side calms me.” She sighs and steps back into Fareeha, tucking her head under the soldier’s chin snugly.

Fareeha’s lips purse together. “Then I’ll always be by your side. We’ll do this together, and everything will be fine.” Another throb comes from her non-existent foot, and she wonders briefly which one of them she is trying to convince.

Angela pulls back with a soft smile. “Thank you, darling. So, you’ll help me?”

The heat immediately attacks Fareeha’s face again, when Angela gestures to the black case, still on the counter, closed but unlocked. “Of course,” she says, and in her attempt to make sure she doesn’t sound over-eager, she ends up sounded stilted and flat.

Angela cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Fareeha repeats before shaking her head lightly. “Yes, love. Come on, then.” She tugs at the hem of Angela’s shirt before stepping away and opening the case.

She can hear the doctor’s breath catch at the sight of her weapon and uniform, and she ignores how her own breath does the same. _She is afraid,_ Fareeha reminds herself. _Now is not the time._

The process is intentionally slow, punctuated by Fareeha poking Angela into giggles on occasion to keep things light. Small kisses are exchanged on necks, shoulders, arms, and cheeks as they maneuver Angela out of her street clothes and into her uniform. By the time they are done, there is a familiar, happy warmth emanating between them.

“Well,” Angela starts, taking a step back, “how do I look?”

Fareeha freezes as she tries to think of the proper way to answer that.

Because Angela looks as amazing as she always has, of course. She is the spitting image of the small magazine poster Fareeha had always kept hidden beneath her mattress as a teenager. Fareeha rubs the back of her neck and takes a deep breath.

“Honestly, Angela, you look wonderful. Beyond so,” she settles on, awe apparent in her voice.

Angela blushes for a moment before standing up straighter, reaching a hand out toward Fareeha in one of her signature poses, and using her Official Agent Mercy voice to say, “The doctor is in!”

Angela’s breath hitches, her arm faltering slightly when she sees Fareeha’s jaw drop and her eyes go dark. She breaths out an Arabic word that Angela has come to know as some sort of curse, though she’s not sure of the exact translation.

_Oh_.

“Fareeha,” she says in an incredulous, teasing tone, dropping her Mercy voice. “You rather like me as Mercy, don’t you?” She raises an eyebrow and steps back into Fareeha’s space.

The soldier, in response, blushes the reddest Angela has ever seen her. She scrambles to think of the least embarrassing way out of this situation, but her pulse is pounding in her ears and she can hardly think beyond the fact that _Mercy is right in front of her_.

In her silence, Fareeha’s eyes wander along Angela’s body, and the doctor doesn’t miss it. Earlier dilemma now forgotten, an idea sparks in her head.

“Fareeha,” she repeats, stepping up once more so that their faces are inches apart. She looks up into deep brown eyes and puts on her Mercy voice again, “ _Do you need me to take care of you?_ ”

This is the stuff of 15-year-old Fareeha’s wet dreams. Her shoulders tense, eyes focusing on Angela’s lips. She only manages to whimper out a soft, “Fuck,” before Angela has pulled her down into a kiss by her hair.

Angela has been known to be stubborn, to talk back, to be a brat, but this is new territory for them. When Angela feels Fareeha’s hands on her waist, she pushes the soldier away until she topples back onto the bed, staring up at her with wide eyes.

Usually, Fareeha was the one to take the lead, and while Angela had her moments, she’d never felt this much _control_ over Fareeha before. Her heart thrums with the rush of power, and she feels her ears and cheeks burning as badly as the space between her thighs. “You’ll need to undress for me,” she continues, Mercy tone faltering for just a moment, “so that we can conduct a proper examination.”

Fareeha sits up and immediately pulls her shirt over her head. She feels like a teenager, fumbling and eager for their first time. Tossing her shirt across the room, she stands in order to start unbuckling her pants, but Angela’s hand on her stomach makes her freeze.

Angela trails the tips of her fingers across Fareeha’s skin, running along the defined lines of her abs and the V that disappears into her belt. She hums softly while Fareeha’s breath hitches. Sliding her hand up into Fareeha’s sports bra, Angela helps her slip it over her head. The doctor’s slim hands then take their time trailing over and caressing Fareeha’s chest.

Fareeha sways a bit in place, jaw dropping with a whimper as Angela lightly pinches one of her nipples. That hand moves to palm and squeeze her full breast, while the other hand pinches the other nipple and _tugs_. Fareeha cries out a moan as she’s pulled flush against Angela once more. She forces her eyes open—didn’t even realize she’d closed them in the first place—to see _Mercy’s_ gaze inches from her own.

“The problem doesn’t appear to be of the upper body,” Mercy says to her, breath ghosting over her lips. “We’ll have to continue the examination. Please remove the remainder of your clothing now.” And then she’s stepped away _again_.

_God_ , is this how Angela felt whenever Fareeha teased her, dragged out their sessions? Her head is clouded, only aware of Angela— _Mercy_ —in front of her and the throbbing heat in her underwear. Vaguely, she registers the order she’d been given and moves to follow it, but her body is moving clumsily and it takes her longer than she’d like.

Angela takes the time to admire Fareeha, thoroughly amused by the effect she’s had on her soldier thus far. As she waits for Fareeha to fumble her pants and underwear off, she brings a hand up to hide a smirk she can’t hold back. When Fareeha finally finishes and stands up straight, Angela immediately shoves her back onto the bed once more.

With the way Fareeha lands, her wetness is on display for Angela to see _very_ clearly. “Well, then,” she breathes, just barely managing to hold onto her exaggerated voice. She looks up to meet Fareeha’s frenzied eyes. “It looks like I’ve found the problem. Time to patch you up, don’t you think?” She feels as if she might be laying it on a bit thick, but her partner seems to be enjoying every bit of it.

Fareeha is barely able to let out a groan before Angela is on her knees, kissing her way up Fareeha’s thighs. She slips a hand into Angela’s hair and whimpers, “ _Habibti_ , please.”

Angela shudders, but fights against the way she would normally respond. Instead, she reaches up and moves Fareeha’s hand to her side, holding it there firmly for a moment to portray the message. “Now, now, be patient, and you’ll get a treat when all is said and done.”

“Fuck,” Fareeha says through a chuckle, “this is a treat in itself.”

Angela can’t hold back her own breathy chuckle, but when Fareeha continues to keep her hands still, she resumes her previous activities. Slowly, she kisses her way up the insides of Fareeha’s thigh to the source of the rich smell invading her senses. Absentmindedly, she brushes her hand along the metal prosthesis below the soldier’s left knee, but she was thankfully too distracted from her earlier troubles to resurface.

Fareeha is _dripping_ , the wettest Angela has ever seen her, and she briefly makes a mental note to clean the sheets when all this is done. The wetness has smeared along her thighs where they meet. Angela starts licking up the mess on one side while she reaches a finger out to scoop up a large amount of wetness clinging to Fareeha’s lips. Fareeha lets out a moan as she does so, and Angela lets out her own when she sucks Fareeha’s juices off of her finger.

“Don’t worry, _Liebchen_ ,” she says, adjusting her position slightly, “I’m going to take care of you now.”

When Angela licks a long stripe through Fareeha’s wet folds, she has to pin the soldier’s hips down. Fareeha moans _loudly_ , obscenely, and it makes Angela exceedingly wet, herself. She leans back in once she has a grip on Fareeha’s hips and goes to work, licking and sucking up the juices that flow freely from her cunt.

When Fareeha quiets down to heavy pants, Angela moves to focus on her clit, using her tongue as she knows her lover enjoys. Fareeha’s moans start up again, desperate now. As she closes her lips around her clit and sucks lightly, Angela hesitantly trails a finger over Fareeha’s entrance. She pulls back just long enough to say, “Is this--?” but Fareeha cuts her off before she can even finish the question.

“Yes, please,” she nearly cries before dissolving into more Arabic. She doesn’t think she’s been this worked up in her life. She’d thought that sex with Angela couldn’t get any more perfect than what they’d already experienced, but this is only expanding her imagination.

Angela moves forward again to suck harshly on her clit as she simultaneously pushes a finger inside of her. Fareeha isn’t usually a big fan of penetration, but when she’s this worked up, she craves it—and Angela knows her well enough to have predicted it.

Fareeha writhes on the bed, clenching her fists in the bed sheets to keep from grabbing at Angela’s hair. She tries her hardest not to buck her hips throughout the doctor’s ministrations, but it’s extremely hard when she keeps glancing down to see _Mercy_ in full uniform, on her knees between Fareeha’s thighs. “More,” she moans out, and Angela is too caught up in pleasing Fareeha now to keep up the charade.

Angela adds another finger inside Fareeha, moving quickly as her tongue flicks over her clit. She digs her nails into Fareeha’s hip and curls the fingers inside her with each thrust. Looking up, she meets Fareeha’s gaze, and she gets to witness the moment when her soldier falls apart.

Fareeha’s eyebrows raise up and her jaw slackens, letting out Angela’s name in a cry of pure bliss. Her back arches, and her hips thrash twice, so hard that Angela can’t hold her down anymore. Then she calms, her thighs twitching occasionally as Angela slows her continuous ministrations.

When Fareeha lets out a sigh, Angela pulls her fingers out of her still-twitching cunt and gently licks up the mess between her love’s legs. She then raises up onto the bed and climbs up Fareeha’s body to lay across her.

She rests her wet hand on the sheets beside Fareeha while her other starts stroking through her straight, black hair. Fareeha hazily turns to meet her gaze through half-lidded eyes and smiles dopily up at her. Angela can’t help but laugh. “Enjoy yourself, _schätzli_?”

“Angela, you—” Fareeha cuts herself off with a chuckle of her own. “You realize you just fulfilled a fantasy I’ve had since I was a teenager, don’t you?”

Angela, despite herself, blushes brightly. “I might’ve had the _thought_ , but I didn’t know for sure; I mean, I always had my _suspicions_ , but that’s all they were—”

Fareeha cuts her off with a firm kiss. “I love you, my angel,” she says when she pulls back, which rewards her with the sight of Angela’s blush spreading to her ears and neck before she buries her face into Fareeha’s chest. She can only chuckle, before she turns her head and realizes Angela’s hand is right by her face.

Angela lets out a whimper and raises her head when she feels the unmistakable sensation of Fareeha’s mouth around her fingers. The soldier meets her gaze haughtily as she sucks Angela’s fingers clean, her tongue moving deftly around and between the slender digits. When she releases them with a _pop_ , Angela can’t hold back a long moan.

“Now,” Fareeha says as she quickly and smoothly flips them around, “I think it’s time the doctor was taken care of, don’t you, _Agent Mercy_?”

“ _Mein Gott_ ,” Angela whimpers before Fareeha sweeps her up in a kiss once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @mid-sweettalk! I'm posting all my fic there from now on, and I'd love to hear from y'all!


End file.
